


Evident

by unadrift



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: First Kiss, Humor, M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: "Well," Rita says and crosses her legs. "It seems your SVU detective and wannabe-attorney will live in infamy. His tendency to force unsolicited legal advice on people more knowledgeable on the subject has become a bit of a running gag in our circles."





	Evident

**Author's Note:**

> Remember this conversation from S16E19 _Granting Immunity_?
> 
> Rafael Barba: "Maybe these kids had a vaccination exemption."  
> Amanda Rollins: "I don't want to pull a Carisi, but we could be looking at reckless endangerment."
> 
> Yes? Then we're good to go.

 

The first time it happens, Barba is a little too preoccupied to grasp what’s going on.

He’s on his phone in the middle of a hallway, skimming an email from Henderson and internally composing a scathing reply to this joke of a plea deal barely camouflaged as a generous offer.

Footsteps approach and move by quickly, and Barba is temporarily privy to the conversation taking place between the two people passing by.

"You’re kidding," one says.

"I wish," the other answers.

"She really pulled a Carisi on you?"

"Can you believe it? The nerve of that woman. "

When the mention of the name registers, Barba looks up, but the two conversing parties have turned a corner. 

Did they really just talk about Carisi? Barba decides he must have misheard and turns back to his phone. Henderson still needs a good dose of reality fired his way.

* * *

Barba hears the phrase again, only a week or so later.

Rita gestures broadly with her drink. She only ever moves ungracefully when inebriated, which is hilarious to watch. She says, "I know we cooperate a lot, and I really shouldn't say this, but Buchanan is an asshole."

"What's he done this time?" Barba asks, because he feels it's his duty. On the plus side, dirt on Buchanan is useful knowledge to have.

"He's got this obnoxious intern. Buchanan just sat there and watched when this smarmy kid pulled a Carisi on me! Just sat there and grinned. Ass."

Barba blinks. "The kid did what?"

"He pulled a Carisi," Rita says, then notices the expression on his face. "Oh. You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Well," Rita says and crosses her legs. "It seems your SVU detective and wannabe-attorney will live in infamy. His tendency to force unsolicited legal advice on people more knowledgeable on the subject has become a bit of a running gag in our circles."

Barba's eyebrows do their best to meet his hairline. He can't believe what he's hearing. "They're calling that _pulling a Carisi_?"

Rita knocks back the rest of her drink. "Yes. That's what I said." And she launches into a detailed tale of what the painfully green intern tried to tell her about chain of evidence and its relevance in court.

Barba only half-listens and tries to work out how he feels about this development. 

Their little exchanges have always been a matter between himself and Carisi. Carisi loves to offer his opinions on legal matters, and Barba loves to shoot them down in a witty manner. It's their thing. At this point they both draw a considerable amount of enjoyment from it, and no one is hurt in the process. Other people clearly don't understand.

"If that intern had actually _pulled a Carisi_ ," Barba interrupts her, "his input would have been unasked for, granted, but his ideas would at least have had merit."

Rita snaps her mouth shut and considers him with far too much focus. "If I didn't know better I'd say you're offended on the detective's behalf."

Barba picks up his glass and takes a sip. "But you do know better."

She looks at him with narrowed eyes but lets him change the topic.

When the evening draws to a close, Barba is still thinking about Carisi and infamy. He doesn't have perfect recall, but he's detail-oriented, so he remembers where he heard the expression before: Once in a corridor at the courthouse, and one other time before that. An investigation is in order. 

* * *

He confronts Rollins in his office after a case-related meeting.

Rollins looks taken aback. "Did I what? I’m not following."

Barba speaks with forced patience, as if to an uncooperative child. "That one time you spouted legal terminology at me and called it _pulling a Carisi_ , did you use that phrase anywhere else? Did other people, people from outside SVU, overhear?"

"I don’t… No, I don’t think so. I can't be one hundred percent sure, though. Why do you ask?"

"Think, Detective," Barba says sharply. "Be sure."

"I really don’t know, okay. What’s the big deal? It wasn’t meant to be…"

"Insulting?" 

Rollins narrows her eyes. "You’re one to talk. You’ve been on his case from day one."

He can’t exactly argue. Of course that's what it looks like. That's how it used to be, back in the beginning.

"Please refrain from using the expression in the future," he says. 

And now Rollins is staring at him like he lost his marbles.

"Oh-kay," she says. "But why…"

"That's all, detective," he dismisses her and quickly retreats behind his desk.

"Counselor," she says and heads for the door, looking calculating and amused in equal measure.

Great. This is why he should never discuss Carisi with anyone.

* * *

Maybe Rollins really does heed his request, but it seems the damage is already done.

* * *

"No need to pull a Carisi on me," Buchanan tells Carmen. She's attempting to get some formalities out of the way before the meeting, so Barba will have to deal with the man as little as possible. Barba overhears their conversation only because he's pacing by the open door while on a particularly undemanding phone call.

"Hold on a second," he interrupts Henderson and pulls the door fully open to reveal a quietly fuming Carmen and an impatient Buchanan. 

"So sorry, counselor. We'll have to reschedule. Very important phone call." He waves his cell und closes the door in Buchanan's face.

Carmen will smile sweetly at the man and offer him some inopportune time slot. She'll be polite about it, because she's more of a professional than Barba could ever hope to be. And of course she knows she will be richly compensated with coffee and pastries.

* * *

Briant, a fellow ADA, has been complaining about a case of his for a solid ten minutes. Barba just wants to eat his lunch. He'd never even invited the man to join him at the table. And even if Briant expected to receive some measure of sympathy from Barba (why?), it should be obvious by now that he's not going to get it. 

Briant goes on to explain in detail how one of the paralegals, apparently a complete smart ass, almost wrecked the case, and then "pulled a total Carisi on me. She tried to convince me that her way was totally the right way to go." 

And now they've reached a point in the monolog where Barba feels his input is required.

"No," he says. "If she had, as you put it, pulled a Carisi, her demeanor would have been annoying, granted, but her actions would have been the result of solid reasoning. Only one of those conditions applies here, and it’s not the one allowing for competence."

"What?" Briant looks confused.

Barba doesn't have the patience to deal with the man, not even on a good day. This is not a good day. It's gotten worse now, actually. This continuing abuse of Carisi's name annoys him to no end. It shouldn't, and that annoys him even more. He gathers his things and leaves with an insincere "Have a nice day."

* * *

Barba meets Vanderbelt in the elevator, on a long trip downward. Vanderbelt, a defense attorney and fleeting acquaintance of Barba's, makes fun of a young colleague at his firm and of course uses everyone's new favorite turn of phrase.

Barba takes a deep breath. Vanderbelt looks like he would like his medal now.

"Someone with your kind of track record should not throw stones from their glass house," Barba says in a flat tone.

"Hang on." Vanderbelt frowns at him. "What are you implying? That I'm not a good lawyer?"

Barba smiles like a shark. "That's exactly what I'm implying. Carisi could beat you with both hands tied behind his back."

Vanderbelt turns an interesting shade of red. "But…" he sputters. "You hate that guy."

"A little professional rivalry never hurt anyone," Barba says dismissively. "Keeps things interesting. You know. Between equals," he adds pointedly.

The elevator doors open and Barba strides out, leaving Vanderbelt to glower at his back.

* * *

Instead of subsiding, the whole thing seems to spread like the plague. Barba loses count of the times he defends Carisi, sometimes to people he barely knows. 

Really, it's better that no one keeps track.

* * *

"Don't." Barba pulls a face. "You can call the man incompetent, a dick, a hack, whatever you can think of, but don't use that phrase."

"What," Rita says, a gleeful expression on her face. "We're still on that?"

Barba does not blush. He hasn't blushed in twenty years. He didn't have reason to. This is getting out of hand.

* * *

The man behind the coffee cart at the court house – Ted, according to his name tag – is training a new employee. Barba is second in line when the guy is giving Ted some lip.

"Listen," Ted tells the twentysomething. "Pull a Carisi on me again, you can look for another job, capisce?"

"Sure, boss," the guy answers, looking like he can barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes behind his hipster glasses.

Barba stares incredulously. The _barista_ now? How the hell had this thing spread here? He stares for so long that Ted tries to catch his attention by impolitely snapping his fingers in Barba's face. 

Barba has lost his caffeine craving, something he had not thought possible up until now. He glares at Ted. It's the kind of glare that has reduced defense attorneys to tears. Sadly, it seems to have no visible effect on baristas. He turns his back and leaves, fuming silently all the way to the courtroom. 

He has barely shed his coat and dropped into his chair when Judge Langston contributes to his day in the most perfect way.

"Rosie, are you trying to pull a Carisi on me?" she jokes and peers at her bailiff over the rim of her glasses.

Barba freezes, his briefcase still half-unpacked on top of the table. This is the last straw. 

"Objection," he calls. 

The whole courtroom quiets. A few dozen eyes are suddenly watching him. The judge raises a, fittingly, judging eyebrow. "Mr. Barba. You're starting early today. I haven't even opened court yet."

Barba curses himself for the outburst and tries to gather his wits. "This has no bearing on the trial."

"And what is it you're objecting to?"

"The expression you used. It's uncalled for. Your Honor."

Judge Langston holds her breath like she's inwardly counting to ten. "You better elaborate."

"Your Honor, do you know the person you just referred to?"

The judge frowns like it just dawns on her that there must have been an actual person named Carisi involved in the chain of events that had led to this point. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"He's an NYPD detective who is currently attending law school. Successfully, I might add. He should not be belittled like this."

The judge looked taken aback. "You know the origin of this expression?"

"Yes. And the man who seems to have inspired it does not deserve this kind of treatment."

She regards him silently for a long moment. "Noted," she finally says. "May we begin now, Mr. Barba?"

"Of course, Your Honor," Barba says and busies himself with his documents.

And there goes his plan to make a good impression on the judge today. Langston already didn't like him. Of course the defense looks smugly happy. At least the jury isn't in yet.

* * *

Barba will have to learn to keep his mouth shut, he decides after that. He could jump to Carisi's defense a hundred times without it having any long-term effect, other than on his own cut-throat reputation.

Once again, the damage is already done.

* * *

Carisi steps into his office without knocking first. "Hey, Barba."

Barba looks up from the document he's composing and skips the reprimand on etiquette. It never worked on Carisi before. "Detective, what can I do for you? Is this about the Drummond case?"

"No," Carisi says and firmly closes the door behind him.

Barba frowns and really looks at Carisi. What is that expression on his face? Smugness? Excitement? Nervousness? All of the above? Carisi is usually an open book. Not today. It's unsettling.

"I heard all sorts of interesting stories about you lately," Carisi says conversationally and approaches Barba's desk, never breaking eye contact.

Barba is suddenly feeling trapped and rises from his chair. "Well, I _am_ an interesting person in a high-profile profession," he points out. "There are always stories."

A book is lying on his desk that should go back on a shelf across the room. It's as good an excuse as any for him to have suddenly jumped up with no provocation.

Carisi follows him through the room. "These stories are different. I'm a key player, for one. The damsel in distress, you could say." He sounds amused, of all things.

Barba pushes the book in place on the shelf and turns. Carisi is far too close, and he does indeed look amused. He should be furious.

"Do you even know what people are using your name for?" Barba asks.

"You mean _pulling a Carisi_? Yeah, I heard. The Lieu filled me in. And Rollins. And Fin. And pretty much everyone who knows my name around these parts," he says casually, like it's no big deal.

This isn't right. Barba's blood pressure spikes just thinking about it. "You're not mad? Embarrassed? It's an insult."

"It's a joke. I can take a joke. Had to learn that in my, oh, three precincts before Manhattan."

"That doesn't mean it's okay," Barba insists.

"Actually, it's great." Carisi smiles, dimples and all. "Now I have evidence. Presented in court, no less."

"Evidence of what?" Barba says and takes a step back.

The smile on Carisi's face widens even more as he closes in. "Evidence of your affections. I don't bug you nearly as much as you let everyone believe." 

Carisi could stand to sound a little less gleeful, Barba thinks as his back hits the shelf. "My _affections_?" he scoffs. "What is this, a Victorian romance novel?"

"I don't know about Victorian, but I'm on board with the romance part," Carisi says. Barba is pretty sure that sort of statement is supposed to come out lightly, as a joke. Carisi looks intense instead. "Half the time I wasn't sure if you were pulling my pigtails or genuinely disliked me. I guess I have my answer."

"Look," Barba says. "I don't think this is…"

"Rafael?" Carisi interrupts him, his voice low.

It sends a shiver down Rafael's spine. "Yes?"

"Shut up."

And Carisi kisses him.

This is a bad idea. Barba can't list all the ways in which this is a bad idea. He can't, because he's too busy enjoying it as much as possible. Carisi's hand is in Barba's hair and his other hand is sliding around Barba's waist. One pull, and they're close, pressed together from knee to nose, but still not close enough.

This might be a bad idea, but maybe it's time for one of those. He has a feeling that it will be worth it.

* * *

Later, when they're both lying somewhat rumpled on the couch, Carisi lifts his head from Barba's shoulder and says, "Does this mean you'll pull a Barba every time someone insults me?"

"Pull a _what_?" Barba says, alarmed. "Don't you dare. You establish that as a turn of phrase people actually use, and I will eviscerate you. With extreme prejudice."

Huffs of warm breath hit his throat as Carisi laughs, his arm tightening around Barba's waist.

"What, you don't want a reputation as protective papa bear?"

"Madre de dios, why do I like you?"

"It's a complete mystery," Carisi agrees.

Barba smiles and pulls him closer.

 


End file.
